A Call To Arms
by YoursNotTruly
Summary: It's the summer of 1944, and instead of indulging himself in relaxation and enjoying his youth as any typical twenty-one-year-old should be, Dick Grayson finds himself lost within the hostile territory of Nazi-Occupied Tamaran after having been separated from his unit. Will he ever find his way back or accept his apparent fate and surrender to the enemy? AU, eventual Robstar.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own the Teen Titans. _

**A/N: **_This story was inspired by Band of Brothers, so yeah. Also, I would like to apologize for not updating My Bestfriend's Girlfriend, but I will be rewriting and editing my old stories._

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><p><span><strong><em>Chapter I - Whenever My Country Calls<em>**

It was a typical morning at Wayne Manor.

As the break of day neared and light slowly illuminated the nearly empty halls, if it weren't for the grandiose paintings and antiques scattered throughout the mansion to brighten the mood, a young Dick Grayson awoke to the boisterous beeping of his alarm clock. Refusing to get up from his comfortable position under his bed sheets, he lazily searched for the pesky device on his nightstand with one hand. After a few minutes of fumbling, annoyed that he couldn't get the damn thing to shut up, Dick rose from the covers and smashed the alarm with a powerful swing of his fist.

"Ugh," he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he swung his legs off the side of his bed. He paused for a moment then glanced down at his boxers. "Oh, great. Just...great."

After assembling an appropriate change of clothes for a casual Saturday, Dick ambled to the bathroom for a long, cold shower.

In the kitchen, Alfred busily prepared a mountainous breakfast for the five male residents of the manor. Bruce sat at one end of the grand table with a stack of unopened envelopes at his side, intently reading the morning paper. Damian sat at the opposite end, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he idly toyed with kitchen utensils and a linen napkin. He huffed in annoyance as his older brother, Jason, walked in.

"Todd," the adolescent grumbled.

"Morning, kid!" Jason smirked as he purposefully ruffled his hair, knowing it would irk him. "Bruce," he received a nod then walked towards the kitchen window pass to greet their gray-haired butler.

Tim wandered into the dining room, catching Damian in the act of burning a death glare at the back of Jason's head, then locked eyes with him as he shifted his gaze.

"Drake."

The animosity emanating from the almost-demon-spawn was akin to that of radiation from an atom bomb. Tim didn't know whether it was because the ten-year-old really hated his brothers with an intense, fiery passion, or he simply wasn't a morning person. He couldn't tell.

"Easy, Damian. It's only, like, what, seven o'clock in the morning? Let's save it for the afternoon." Tim looked at his father and assumed his place beside him. "Hey, Bruce." He was also issued a nod in acknowledgement.

Damian was about to respond with a clever retort, but was interrupted when his eldest sibling finally joined in their daily gathering.

"Good morning, guys." He occupied the spot beside Damian. "What's for breakfast?" All three inhabitants shrugged.

As if on cue, Alfred arrived to distribute the day's first meal. Jason followed closely, hungrily sniffing the aroma wafting off the french toast, pancakes, omelets, and the like.

"I get first dibs," Jason declared with a look of triumph.

"No can do, Jay," Dick challenged. "I'm the oldest, so me first."

Jason's winning smile fell and a frown settled in its place. "Shut up. I called it already."

"And I care, why? Me being older than you trumps all of your-"

"Cease with your immature banter," Damian growled. "I swear, the both of you are five-year-olds trapped in the embodiment of an adult. Your level of maturity is undoubtedly inferior to mine and, quite frankly, I'm only ten. Father," he turned to Bruce, "you have successfully raised a household of man-children. Drake included."

"Hey!" Tim griped, offended. "Am not." He crossed his arms in defiance and cast the boy a scowl.

"My point exactly," Damian droned on with a bored expression as he resumed fiddling with his tableware.

"Boys," Bruce lowered his newspaper as he cleared his throat. He looked at the pile of beige envelopes with subtle disdain, knowing what they were and what it meant for the family. "We need to talk." All four of his sons looked at him expectantly.

"Dick," he tossed him an envelope. "Jason," he passed another to his second son then held his own. "Can either of you guess what these are?"

A strange, intangible force wouldn't allow him to remove his fixed gaze from the sealed letter in his hands. He couldn't look any of his boys in the eye. Perhaps the only explanation he could think of was that he was afraid for them, terrified by the thought of losing them to the war. He didn't mind so much enlisting by himself, but it was a completely different story when his sons were required to participate as well, for he didn't want them taking any part.

"Are we finally being invited to the Playboy Mansion?" Jason quipped, waggling his eyebrows. "If you asked me, I'd say it's about time they've come to their senses." He glanced at Tim and Damian, laughing internally at their lack of age. Tim shot him a look and Damian rolled his eyes.

"No."

"What is it, Bruce?" Dick could sense the tension emerging from Bruce's person. Unlike Jason, he got the hint that this was definitely no laughing matter.

Bruce sighed as he opened his envelope. A quick glance at the single sheet confirmed his fears. He and two of his boys were being drafted.

"It's a letter of induction."

The loud, cracking screech of ceramic plates and silverware making contact with the floor rang throughout the dining room. All eyes, except for Damian's, shifted to Alfred. A look of pain marred his aged expression.

It was Damian that spoke after a moment of awkward silence. "Please excuse me." He got up from his seat and made his way to the exit. "I've lost my appetite." A loud bang could be heard as Damian slammed the door to his room shut and activated the lock. Surprisingly, Tim could've sworn Damian was struggling to hold back tears.

Dick glanced at Jason, whose eyes still trailed after their youngest sibling, then at Bruce, who couldn't seem to look anywhere but at the slip of paper he held in his hands.

"You can't go," Tim stood, slightly trembling. "You just...I won't...there's no way I'll...It's not..." His words were beginning to sound like a jumbled mess, making it difficult for the others to decipher what he was trying to say.

Dick approached his younger brother and planted both of his hands firmly on each of his quivering shoulders to steady him. "Hey," he soothed. "Everything's going to be alright. We'll get through this, okay?"

"What if-" Tim choked back a sob. "What if we don't? What if something happens to all three of you? What're Damian and I supposed do?" He buried his face in his hands as Dick pulled him into a one-armed hug and sat him back down. He remained silent, certain that any further attempt at consolation would be in vain and took the spot beside him.

Jason finally looked at Bruce, who still had his eyes glued to the induction notice. "Bruce," he said. No response. "Dad," his father's gaze slowly but surely met his own. "What does it say?"

"We are scheduled to report to the National Guard Armory here in Gotham in about a week's time, and from there we will be transported to the induction station for the Army."

"I'll go pack my things," Jason uttered. "We don't have much time before-"

"We won't be going anywhere, Jason," Bruce announced with a doleful sigh as well as a heavy heart. "I will be going alone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The three boys demanded.

"It means that neither of you are going. Rest assured, I'll make it so that you don't have to." He got up and made his way to the large, arched window overlooking the backyard to examine the scenery. The elaborate garden was as elegant as the day before and the sun continued to bestow its rays of life upon the greenery. He thought it unfortunate how a beautiful day could be easily spoiled.

"Now, hold on a minute," Dick interjected. "You can't do that."

"Yes, I can. And I will."

"You can't stop me from going. You can't stop either of us."

Bruce turned to face his son. "I won't allow it. You're too-"

"Too what, Bruce?" Dick was practically yelling, his brows scrunched together in portrayal of his acute disapproval. "Young? I'm twenty-one, not twelve. I think it's safe to say I'm old enough to make my own decisions. Therefore, the choice is mine to make and mine alone."

"Dick-"

"He's right," Jason affirmed. Bruce stared at him, wide-eyed. "The men who put their lives on the line because they have to...it isn't fair to them."

"I don't care if it's unjust," Bruce avowed. "I forbid you."

"What makes you think Jay and I have any more right to live than all the other men being drafted?"

Bruce offered no response, opting instead to sit down quietly and absorb what's been said.

"You're right."

No more words were exchanged as Bruce got up and walked away, and no voice was heard as the three remaining boys gathered around Alfred to assist him with the shattered fragments of ceramics.

_To be continued…_

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><p><strong>AN: **_Men between the ages of 18 to 64 were drafted. J__ust to be clear, here's a list of their ages._

_Dick - 21_

_Jason - 18_

_Tim - 16_

_Damian - 10_

_Bruce - 42_


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING:** _I ship Tim/Kon, Bruce/Selina, and Clark/Diana so be prepared for little bits and hints of that in this chapter._

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><p><strong><em><span>Chapter II - A Solemn Farewell<span>_**

At last, their seven days were up.

After a week of packing and preparation for the big day, Dick still felt considerably unprepared for what was to come. He found that the hardest part about the situation was saying goodbye to his friends and family being left behind. Eventually, he expected to be separated from Bruce and Jason as well. It would be a miracle if they were all somehow assigned to the same unit so he wouldn't be left in the dark about their whereabouts, but he knew better than that.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror and imagined that he was only in a dream, a nightmare where Bruce, Jason and himself were being sent to fight in the second World War. He watched as his expression contorted to that of grief in his realization that he wasn't in a fantasy, but reality.

A soft knocking withdrew him from his poignant musings. Dick blinked once more then moved towards the door. He opened it to find Damian and Tim, both seemingly despondent.

"Hey, Dick." Tim was somehow able to muster enough happy thoughts and willed himself to smile. "We just wanted to, you know, say goodbye…and that we won't be going with you guys to the armory." Dick nodded then waited for him to continue. "It's not that we don't want to. Bruce doesn't want us to go. He says it's easier this way."

"Good luck out there, Grayson," Damian added. "Just promise us one thing."

Dick smiled fondly. "What is it?

"Promise that you'll come back. Alive."

Dick sighed as he approached his youngest brother and kneeled before him. He offered a tiny smile as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll try. That I can promise."

Tears welled up in Damian's eyes and he turned around. "If you die, I am going to personally rip apart the gates of Hell and drag your sorry soul back to the land of the living so I can force you back into your stupid body."

"Assuming it's still in one piece," Dick teased with a laugh. "Or maybe just missing a limb or two. If I get my head blown off, then I don't see how that plan of your is going to work out." That earned him a glare.

Tim gasped, his eyes wide. "Don't joke around like that!"

"Sorry," Dick chuckled as he knocked on his hardwood door to put his brothers at ease.

"Hurry up, Dick!" Jason called as he turned the corner, his bulky duffel bag in tow. "We're leaving in an hour." One look at Damian and he immediately knew why he had turned himself away from Tim and Dick. He was trying to hide his tears. "Don't cry, kiddo. We'll be back in no time."

"You better make sure of it," Damian sniffled. "Or I'll drag you back, too."

"You got it," Jason smiled half-heartedly. He was aware of the consequences for promising such things when he knew he had no control whatsoever over the outcome, but if it made his little brothers feel any better about their departure, he didn't care that it was wrong. "Anyway, Dick, are you ready to go?"

"As I'll ever be."

Selina had arrived the day before and spent the night with Bruce. It was their last night together until God knows when, so she wanted to make every moment she had left with him a memorable one.

"You be careful out there," she whispered as she gently caressed his cheek. "And take care of the boys."

Bruce placed his hand above her own. "I'll do what I can."

"I'll look after Tim and Damian. And Alfred, but I doubt that he needs any looking after," she smiled.

"I trust that you will."

Then she kissed him. It was sincere, filled with longing, and neither wanted to stop. But alas, their moment was put to a halt when said boys entered the foyer.

"Get a room," Dick cried, covering Damian's eyes. The two lovers hadn't realized their kiss had become more fervent than they had originally intended. "This is one of the most public areas in the house, not a goddamn bedroom!"

"Get off!" Damian shouted, ripping his brother's much larger hands away from his face. Oh, how he despised being patronized.

The massive doors permitting entrance to the manor swung open with a thunderous bang. On the other side stood Clark Kent, his girlfriend Diana Prince, and his son Conner. Both Kents shared exuberant smiles, paying no heed to the dim cheerlessness of the day's upcoming events. Diana, however, did not feel as optimistic as her companions.

"Glad to see you could make it, Clark," Bruce greeted as he untangled himself from Selina. He held her hand instead. "How are you, Diana?"

"I've been better," the woman admitted, looking earnestly at the man holding her own hand.

Clark grinned at her in the hopes that she would return the gesture. "You worry too much." He lovingly kissed her forehead when her expression retained its sorrow.

Being slightly uncomfortable with the whole lovey-dovey scene his father and his girlfriend so chose to display, Conner stepped inside and found his way to his best friend.

"Hey," Tim smiled weakly, his cerulean eyes an empty void. Conner found this distant demeanor of his unsettling.

"You know that you don't have to go through this alone, right?" Conner spoke softly. "My dad's leaving me, too. I know how it feels. You've just got to smile through it all, while you still have any reason to." Tim hugged him, his words of comfort forcing its way through his unyielding barrier of misery.

"I'm glad you aren't going," he murmured into Conner's neck.

His friend laughed as he patted him soothingly on the back. "Even if I wanted to, I'm still only seventeen."

"But that means one more year and then you'll have to go." Tim held on tighter. "I can't lose you, too."

Dick and Jason advanced toward the two.

"Do you think they like each other as, you know…more than best friends?" Jason asked in a low tone so only Dick could receive the message.

"It's not impossible."

"Alright, break it up," Jason placed a hand on each of their shoulders, smirking at the two of them as he interrupted their tender moment. "What's with the love fest all of a sudden?"

"Love fest?" Damian scrunched his face in disgust.

"Yeah!" Jason insisted with a wide grin. "Bruce and Selina were practically getting it on before we walked in on them. Clark and his girl were being a little too friendly for my tastes a few minutes ago, and now look at you two!"

"Oh, shut up, Jay," Tim protested. "That's not funny."

Dick chuckled, illustrating no disagreement with Jason's pronouncement.

Tim's eyes shot to his eldest brother and stared at him disbelievingly. "Dick!"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Not funny, I'm sorry."

"Alright, boys. Let's get a move on," Bruce publicized, his cobalt eyes locking with Selina's emeralds once more in a soundless farewell. "We've got a big day ahead of us."

Shortly, Alfred rolled up before Wayne Manor in their vehicle of transportation. It was going to be a long ride to the armory.

_To be continued…_

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><p><strong>AN: **_So yeah, they're just saying their good-byes and whatnot. It's pretty slow so far, I know._


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